Shadowrun: Deus Ex Machina
by JonWilhoit
Summary: After losing nearly his entire team in a run gone terribly wrong, a Shadowrunner accepts a job to venture back into techno-horror madness that is the Renraku Arcology-all in the hopes of rescuing the woman he loves.


**Shadowrun: Deus Ex Machina**

_We've been slaves to our tools since the first caveman made the first knife to help him get his supper. After that there was no going back, and we built till our machines were ten million times more powerful than ourselves. We gave ourselves cars when we might have learned to run; we made airplanes when we might have grown wings; and then the inevitable. We made a machine our God._

_-John Brunner, __Judas__ (1967)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One – Welcome to the Machine<strong>

_On behalf of Renraku America and more than 90,000 of your new neighbors, allow me to welcome you to the Seattle SCIRE (SELF-Contained Industrial-Residential Environment). The word _scire_ is Latin for "to know." We chose that name to signify the main purpose of this complex—advancing human knowledge, both scientific and social. The SCIRE isn't simply a place to work or live; it is a complete, independent community like nothing else the world has seen before. It is a place to learn and grow and become part of something greater than yourself. It is a diverse, rewarding and wonderful place—and I should know, because I live here too._

_Though SCIRE is the building's official designation, most people usually refer to it simply as "the arcology;" we're hoping that you'll call it "home." Welcome to our world, and thank you for helping us make it the best world it can be._

_Dr. Sherman Huang, President and Divisional Manager, Renraku America_

_-Renraku Arcology New Employee Welcome Manual_

* * *

><p>It was the eyes that haunted me the most. Iridescent green, the color of grass after a spring rain. Two bright wells shining out of the dark that seemed to simultaneously exude and devour the light. It was a little girl, no more than seven years old. Blonde, with pigtails and a pink polka-dotted dress. She stood in the middle of darkened corridor clutching a babydoll to her chest with one arm. The other hung by her side, hidden in the folds of her dress.<p>

As my team and I approached, weapons shouldered and fingers on the trigger, she simply stood there, blank, unmoving. She was in shock. We were too. We'd seen what the lower levels were like, the carnage, the destruction, the senseless brutality of it all. And that was child's play compared to what lay deeper in the labyrinth that was the Renraku Arcology. I didn't want to even imagine what she had seen.

"Oh my God," Sugar whispered, coming to a halt beside me.

The she-ork was clad in a black thermal sneak suit, layered armored vest, combat harness, and infrared grease paint. So was I. So was everyone on our five man team. The only exceptions to her dark facade were the white of her tusks and the chrome datajack in her temple.

"Slot me, what's wrong with her eyes?" I heard Bull growl from behind.

I risked a glance back at him. His rifle was trained unwaveringly on the girl in front of us, the hilt of his monofilament sword peeking over one shoulder. The ex-ganger's namesake, a gold bullring dangling from his nose, gleamed dully in the low light.

"Can the chatter, both of you," I snapped. "Shep, talk to me."

The troll was the newest addition to our team, a veritable mountain of muscle. In the tight Arcology corridors he had to walk in a stoop, and even then his horns still scraped the ceiling. He alone broke our little dress code. In addition to the sneak gear his person was draped with all manner of shamantic fetishes and foci, bracelets and beads, bone daggers and rat tails. The trog was a walking totem pole.

"Dog says the illusions remain intact," he rumbled in that strangely precise manner of his. "To all other eyes we are a squad of Red Samurai."

Red Samurai were Renraku's particular brand of corporate security. I didn't know how bad a choice of cover that had been until later. Much later.

"Then why is she staring like that?" Bull growled.

"I said can the chatter, damn it! Blitz, what the frag? You said this hallway was clear."

"It was!" protested the skinny kid at the rear of our procession. He was jacked into his control rig, sightless chrome eyes scanning the datafeeds we from his pack of mechanical minions. "I swear to God, Peaches, it was. Chip and Dale reported all clear not thirty seconds ago."

"Are they malfunctioning?"

"Of course not. There's a background signal, some sort of white noise, but nothing my ECCM can't handle. Tweety's still frosty, and so is Pluto."

During the whole exchange the girl didn't move. She stayed rooted to her spot ten meters away from us holding her doll to her chest. She might as well have been a statue-an emerald-eyed statue staring at us with the deadened intensity of an oil painting.

"Run a diagnostic. I want to be sure. We're not going anywhere until we have eyes we know work. Bull, you've got overwatch to the rear. Shep, keep an eye on the astral. Sugar and I'll-" I broke off as Sugar slung her submachine gun over her shoulder and started toward the girl.

"Wait," I hissed, grabbing her arm. "There's something wrong with her."

She shook off my hand. "Of course there's something wrong with her. This whole damn Arc has turned into a slaughterhouse. Can't you see she's traumatized?"

"That's not what I mean. Those eyes, they're cyberware. Since when did you ever see a girl that age with 'ware like that?"

"He is right," Shepherd intoned. He had that glazed over look of his he always got when viewing the astral realm. "There is something strange about her aura."

"The crazy hardware?"

"I cannot tell. Everything is fuzzy. The background count is too high. Many negative emotions here... they are dimming the other astral impressions."

"Who knows what's been going on here since the shutdown?" Sugar replied. "I for one am not going to turn my back on a little girl who's been through God knows what horrors. We've got to help her, and that's that."

"The boys are fine," Blitz announced. "She must have entered the hallway after they went by."

I frowned. Every door we'd tried on this residential floor so far had been maglocked tighter than Fort Knox, and there was no indication any of the others would be any different. So where had she come from?

Sugar was moving toward the girl again. "Who are you, sweetheart?" she coaxed. "What's your name?"

"Oh-oh-four-oh-two-eight." said the pigtailed waif for the first time.

The voice was somehow forced-not exactly mechanical, but automated. A trickle of ice water ran down my spine, and even my cybernetic hand shuddered involuntarily. Sugar forced a smile.

"That doesn't sound like the name of a pretty girl like you. Come on now, I bet you've got another name."

"The before-names have no meaning. We are children of Deus."

"Deus?" Sugar repeated. "Who is that, sweetheart, your daddy?"

"Deus is the way and the light. Deus is God."

"Fragging-A," Bull swore. "The slitch is cracked in the head."

Sugar glanced at me, obviously unnerved, but she pressed on. She stepped closer. "Did Deus do that to your eyes?"

"I was blind, and Deus gave me sight. I was hopeless, and He gave me purpose. Deus is the answer. All unbelievers shall serve Him or be struck down by His wrath."

By that time Sugar was just a few scant feet from her. I watched through my gun sights as she stooped lower, reaching her hand out to the green-eyed child. "Why don't you come with me and my friends, honey? You can tell us all about it. We'll get you-"

"Gun!"

The words had come from my mouth, but I couldn't remember saying them. It was instinct, a reaction born from years of combat and close calls. And as the girl's arm came up, her little hand full of gunmetal blue, the reaction of my fingers was just as instinctual. Synapses fired, implanted reaction enhancers engaged. Before I had time to think I had squeezed the trigger, planting a three shot grouping right between her pretty green eyes. Sugar and spice and everything nice vented out the back of her head. The doll fell from her arms. She toppled backward, limbs twitching spasmodically as the machine pistol in her hand spit flame. Sugar reeled, diving for cover. I was in motion a split second later. The girl's body hadn't even hit the floor before I grabbed Sugar by the back of combat harness, hauling her to her feet and back down the hallway.

Then all hell broke loose.

The hallway behind us was rocked by a massive explosion. I felt it more than saw it. Somehow I managed to shield Sugar with my body as the heat wave washed over us and the hand of God slapped me across the back. It was the doll. The fragging doll. I didn't know it until later, but those babydolls packed a punch. Just one more of the Arcology's little surprises.

I don't remember hitting the ground. I don't remember closing my eyes. But when I opened them again I was looking up at the ceiling. The corridor was a smoking ruin. Flames licked at charred carpet and ceiling tiles, the walls a shambles. There was a high-pitched whine in my ears. At first I thought the explosion had scragged my hearing augmentation, but then I realized it was Pluto's HV-LMG unleashing on full auto somewhere back the way we came.

I clawed my way to my feet and reclaimed my assault rifle where it had fallen. Shepherd was helping Sugar up. Thankfully she looked to be OK. I wanted to ask her, but there was no time.

"Blitz," I barked. "What the hell is that?"

"I-I don't know! Pluto's got a target, a drone or something. It was there and now it's gone. Drek, there it is again!"

There was a renewed blast of autofire off in the distance. It was cut short just as soon as it began, replaced with a shriek of tortured metal.

"Frag, I lost Pluto!"

"What _is_ that?" Bull shouted. He was crouched in a firing stance, rifle aimed at the darkness down the hall. "My thermals aren't picking up a goddamn thing."

"I don't fragging know!"

"Send Tweety the other way," I ordered. "See if you can lead it away from us."

"Drek, too late!"

More autofire erupted. I could see Tweety down the hall, the roto-drone backlit by the muzzle flashes from its under-turret SMG. A shape lurched toward it, hulking, metallic. Massive paws cut the air, sweeping the drone into the left wall. Her fuel tank exploded in a shower of scrap metal. And then the shape was no longer in the shadows. It was rushing headlong toward us.

Bull and I opened fire. Tracers and muzzle flashes lit up the dark, bullets sparking off the thing's armored hide. They might as well have been spit balls for all the effect they had. It bounded down the hall on six hydraulic legs, twin tails thrashing serpentine behind it—a chimera straight out of a chip-junkie's worst nightmare. And then it was among us.

I threw myself to the side, rolled, and rose into a firing crouch just in time to see the thing tear out Blitz's throat with one swipe of its claws. Arterial spray painted the wall bright red. The kid tottered backward, both hands clutching at the space where his trachea used to be. Bull darted behind the mechanical beast, monofilament blade drawn. He raised his arms in an overhead chop, but it never landed. The construct pivoted and whipped one of its tails into his abdomen. There was a sickening crunch. He flew backward into the wall and sagged to the floor, the sword a forgotten memory.

I lost track of Sugar in the whirlwind of blood and steel. There was no time to think. I took aim as low as I dared and emptied the rest of the clip into the machine at point blank range. Most of the rounds pinged harmlessly off its thick armor, but they had their desired effect. It got its attention. It whirled to face me, and for a split second I saw it clearly in all its chilling glory—razor-edged talons, steel shrouded face, hide covered in hideous milk-white tendrils that writhed as if alive. I saw my own life, too, balanced upon a mechanical paw as it reared back, readying the blow that would send me to meet my maker.

Suddenly a wave of shimmering force slammed into the drone. Something sparked and hissed in its innards. One of the hydraulic pumps faltered, it sagged to the side, but it didn't slow down. The drone wheeled upon its newest antagonist—Shepherd. He stood rooted in the middle of the hallway, hands outstretched in the gestures of his last spell. The thing charged. There was no dodging for the troll, not in the confines of the corridor. Nor did he even try. He simply lowered his shoulder and braced for impact. Muscle met steel with a meaty _thwack_, and they went down in a tangle of bodies. The drone was on top, flailing, smashing, rending. I fumbled to fit a new clip into my rifle as the magus roared.

Somehow he managed to plant a boot against the drone's abdomen. He triggered something. Electricity sparked in a surge of bluish arcs. He roared again, but fought through the pain and flexed his thighs, catapulting the thrashing drone off of him and down the hall way. It landed on its back, skidded, and rolled cat-like, finally coming to a stop in the crater left by the doll's explosion. It stopped, planted, and twisted back towards us.

And then the floor opened up and swallowed it whole.

Weakened from the earlier blast, the structural supports gave way underneath the construct's weight, and the mechanized monstrosity along with two and a half tons of concrete and rebar went crashing down to the floor below.

It took me a moment to register just what had happened. Then I was sprinting. I reached the edge of the hole and looked down. The drone thrashed amid the rubble below, trying to righten itself on unstable legs. I didn't give it the chance. My rifle's under-barrel grenade launcher spoke—one, twice. The resulting explosions ripped through the construct's guts, blasting through armor, ravaging systems. It collapsed to the ground in a smoking ruin, its writhing tendrils finally still.

My next thought was Sugar.

I turned, seeking her. To my relief she was already standing, helping Shepherd to his feet. Her face was as white as a sheet of paper, but she looked to be unharmed. The rest of my team—that was another story.

"Sound off," I barked.

"I'm fine," Sugar confirmed.

"I will live," said Shepherd. His face and upper body was a mask of blood, flesh hanging in ribbons. He was as stoic as a gargoyle as Sugar helped him up off the floor.

Bull groaned. "I think I broke a couple of ribs." He held his chest with one arm, leaning against the wall for support. "Hurts like a sonofabitch. What the slotting hell was that thing?"

"I don't know, and I'm not waiting to find out. Is Blitz—?"

"Yes," said Shepherd. "He is dead."

A twinge of sorrow rose within me, but I pushed it down. There would be time to be sad later.

"Frag, OK, leave him then. Bull, suck it up and grab your gear we've still got a job to do. Let's—"

I broke off when I heard the screams, faint wails full of torment, anguish, fear. I didn't know if they'd been going on the whole time and I just hadn't notice, or if they'd began just then. But they were coming from the floor below.

"What the…"

I turned back toward the hole and looked down. The floor below was open, bare. I couldn't see any walls. Men and woman lay on the floor beneath the harsh florescent lighting, fully clothed but unmoving. There were children, too. No cyber eyes, but many of them had dolls just like the girl before. Some were talking to the dolls, others were asleep like the adults. Small wheeled drones with needle-tipped arms trundled about, prodding, measuring, poking at the slumbering mass of metahumanity. The wails I heard were coming from the adults, feeble, mewling cries from the depths of their drug-addled sleep.

Realization struck with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach; the collapse of the upper floor, my grenades, they must have killed or crushed half a dozen people. But no one seemed to notice. Not the deadened sacks of meat or their children or even the drones. They continued with their tasks, programmed, oblivious.

I noticed Sugar at my elbow only when she gasped.

"Oh my God. What's wrong with them?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. None of it makes sense."

"What happened here?"

I didn't respond. I was stupefied. My mind couldn't process the things I'd seen—little girls with guns and green eyes and dolls that went boom, metallic beasts with razors for claws and maggots for skin, a room full of zombies tended by an army of drones. The Renraku Arcology wasn't a corporate enclave. It was a funhouse twisted by some mad intellect. It was three hundred and twenty floors of bad juju, and I wanted no part of it.

"We're getting the hell out of here."

"Yeah," Sugar whispered. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea to me."

Bull winced as he pushed himself off the wall. "What about the run? The objective is further up."

"Frag the run," I growled, stalking back toward the others. "We already lost one man, and I'm not about to lose another. Back the way we came. We dust—now."

"That might be easier said than done." rumbled Shepherd. "We have company."

My head snapped back toward him. "Where?"

"Very close. My watcher spirits report life forms converging on our position from multiple directions. I believe they have more of those machines with them."

I cursed my own stupidity. We had been sight seeing when we should have been on the move.

"We're trapped," Sugar moaned.

"Like hell we are. There's still door number three." I nodded at the gaping hole in the hallway floor. "We go down."

"But—"

A jackhammer suddenly slammed into the back of my shoulder. It spun my around like a top, and I stumbled into the wall. I only heard the shot afterward. Sugar screamed my name, but it was lost as the hallway exploded into gunfire and everyone dove for cover. Bull opened up on full auto, spraying the end of the hallway with suppressive fire. I felt Sugar at my side a second later, but I waved her off.

"Didn't penetrate my armor. I'm fine, now get your ass in gear!"

I struggled into the shelter of a doorway, arm dead, shoulder aching. Together Bull and I laid down covering fire as the others beat feet behind us. Shepherd went first, dropping to the floor below. The hallway lit up in hellfire as I triggered another grenade. A scream went up down the hallway, and a man-sized silhouette staggered away.

Sugar was next, dropping into Shepherd's arms below. It was Bull's turn next. Cursing, he limped back over to the hole and took the leap. Then it was just me and Blitz. Sightless chrome reflected the muzzle flashes as I emptied the rest of the clip and sprinted for the rabbit hole. I took one last look over my shoulder at the kid—sprawled against the wall, bathed in blood, staring at me in sightless chrome. And I jumped.


End file.
